


Starlight

by chronicAngel



Series: Leaves in the Summer [52]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Gen, POV Third Person, References to Depression, Stargazing, Video & Computer Games, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: The spark in her eyes has faded to a duller light, like the sun has set and her gaze has been bathed in starlight. If he looks closely, he imagines he could find Yamaneko there, twinkling in this interaction like it has in so many throughout their lives.





	Starlight

They first met when they were two.

He barely remembers it, and he doubts she does. She was wearing a red dress and her father was holding her, one of the only times Inojin can recall seeing her father in the village, and their mothers were arguing. He's pretty sure his own father was somewhere between them, holding his hands up defensively in that way he does when he says something wrong and trying to placate both of them. Eventually, Sasuke had intervened, which required putting Sarada down, and she had walked over to him on pudgy legs and waved shyly. He had beamed, showing off his almost-full set of baby teeth, and grabbed her hand, dragging her off to play.

❀ ❀ ❀

"I heard about your dad," she hears. She's heard it a million times, and grits her teeth, continuing to march forward through the village to the library. She's not actually supposed to go outside by herself, but her mother is always working in the clinic and now that Papa's gone on his mission there's nobody to watch her during the day. She only goes to read for a couple of hours anyway. "Must really suck," the voice behind her adds casually, and she can picture him shrugging his shoulders. She knows who it is, but is pointedly ignoring him in favor of walking toward the library. "My dad says your dad is probably going to die," he says, tone still as casual as if he had just commented on the weather, and she finally turns on her heels toward him, throwing a fist at his face the way her mother showed her.

"He is not going to die!" She yells angrily, glaring through tears at Shikadai. Her punch missed, of course, as she's sure his father has spent just as much time teaching him in shinobi arts as Mama has her. He simply stands three inches back from where he did before, hands still in his pockets like nothing has happened between them, head dipped back to look at the clouds in that infuriating way of his. "My Papa's only been gone for a week! Your dad has no idea what he's talking about!"

He doesn't have time to defend his dad or say anything else at all before she's turning on her heels once more and storming off toward the library, stomping her little feet as she goes. Villagers she doesn't recognize stumble to move out of her way, giggling into their fingers about what they presume to be a temper tantrum.

She can't focus on her book once she gets to the library. She's only three and there are so many big words that it normally takes all of her attention to read (she doesn't have her library card, as it goes to the hospital with Mama and the rest of Mama's important papers, so this is her fourth trip), and she's still fuming over Shikadai's words.

"I heard you punched Shikadai," says a familiar but different voice over her shoulder, and she whips her head around to shush him even as it makes more noise than his whispering really did. He raises his tiny, pale blond eyebrows at her as though trying to highlight this fact, but still moves to sit next to her without being invited as he continues, volume even lower than before, "Well, tried to. I also heard you missed."

She glares at him, giving up on her book and closing it with a loud slam of thick half to thick half. She doesn't even feel bad, really.

"And... I heard he's really sorry. And somebody told me he's an idiot, too." He smiles at her, and she relaxes a fraction even as she continues to glare daggers at him. "Well, okay, that last one was me." She finally breaks, back slumping slightly forward and glare straightening itself out as she lets out a tiny, exasperated sigh. "He's an idiot," he repeats. "He's a sorry idiot though. He shouldn't have said that. About your dad, I mean. Your dad's one of the best shinobi in the village-- er, out of it. Sorry." She rolls her eyes and throws a small hand over his mouth.

"Stop talking, Inojin." He nods and she removes her hand, cracking the book open again and venturing a glance over its pages to find her previous spot. Inojin simply sits at her side, occasionally stealing a glance at the book over her shoulder and then furrowing his eyebrows, giving her a look like she's the most complicated thing in the universe. It's an older text on jutsu, long-winded descriptions of technique and desired results that she's been studying religiously. They're already three, after all. It won't be long until they're old enough to register for Academy, and there's no way she's going to show up knowing fewer jutsu than Boruto and Shikadai. They're both sons of talented shinobi, of course, but she's an Uchiha.

✿ ✿ ✿

He's said numerous times before that there are better places to hang out than the Academy, and will probably say it numerous times in the future, but if Boruto and Shikadai ever hear him they make a point to ignore him. So he sits on the stairs, watching over their shoulders as they engage in a two player fighting match, devices plugged into each other so their characters can battle. It's almost funny to watch, because he knows from classes with them that their fighting in the game is completely different from the way they fight in real life. Shikadai always puts in as little effort as he possibly can, usually preferring to dodge the enemies' attacks and chase them with his shadow possession jutsu until they're exhausted. Boruto, on the other hand, is overconfident, and darts into battle. He's heard from his mother that he gets that particular trait from Naruto.

In the game, Shikadai constantly darts into battle himself, using every weapon and attack at his disposal in the hopes of a quick victory. Boruto has a tendency to play defensively, deftly blocking Shikadai's attacks. This results in long matches that Inojin finds almost as fun to watch as to engage in.

Almost.

Just as he's opening his mouth to complain that it's nearly his turn and the two of them should wrap up soon, he's taken aback by the sounds of footsteps scuffing against the stairs behind them. Turning, he sees Sarada, head down and eyes pointed at the ground.

She's always reminded him of their mothers, walking confidently with her back straight and her head up. When he was younger he'd even laugh to himself about it when he saw her and Sakura-ba-san walking through the village, perfectly mirroring each others' strides. The way she walks now is completely different from what he's used to, as though she's trying not to cry or else hiding evidence that she already has. The sun flares off of the lenses of her glasses too perfectly to be a coincidence, and she holds her arms in as though hugging herself. When he looks closer, he sees her shoulders are shaking.

"Sarada-chan! Hey!" He almost wants to facepalm, looking over to see that Boruto and Shikadai have spotted her too, with the former waving.

Their game has been temporarily forgotten, and Inojin would call it a miracle if he didn't think this was probably the exact opposite of that. She lifts her head slowly and her eyes are still wide like a wild doe's when she finally looks at them, chest rising and falling like she's practicing breathing.

Shikadai loses interest in her quickly, looking back at his device and taking advantage of the fact that Boruto's not paying attention to quickly beat him. Boruto, on the other hand, still waves emphatically at her, grinning. "It's good to see you! You weren't in class earlier!" _She wasn't_? He scans his brain-- at least, what he can remember from how little attention he typically pays in class-- and realizes that his dopey friend is right. He didn't see her, either.

She visibly stiffens, and Boruto narrows his eyes at her lack of a response. "Hey! I know you can hear me, you know! Why aren't you saying anyth--" He's cut off by Shikadai elbowing him in the ribs, and he glares down at him indignantly, likely about to ask what that was for, before he sees that the Nara has beaten him in the minute he's been looking away. "Hey! That's not fair! I demand a rematch!"

Shikadai rolls his eyes and declares that he doesn't want to play anymore, stuffing both his device and his hands into his pockets and dismissing himself. Inojin watches after him for a moment before turning to look back over his shoulder at Sarada again. She's looking back at her feet, but he can see the sadness in her eyes as she looks at her toes and wonders what she's thinking about.

"Hey," he calls over his shoulder, half-yelling. She snaps her eyes up again, and this time looks slightly annoyed until she sees who it is that is calling her attention. He holds his console up so she can see it and offers her a warm smile. "I'm kinda done with this game, but this idiot will get mad if he doesn't get to play at least one more round. Wanna step in for me?" Boruto looks indignant at his side, but smartly keeps his mouth shut. Sarada looks hesitant for a moment, before finally, painstakingly slowly approaching them and sitting on the stairs next to them, holding her hands out for the device. She beats Boruto so fast he's pretty sure it smashes his and Shikadai's records.

❀ ❀ ❀

When her father comes home for good, she feels like an outsider in her own house. It's not the sort of purposeful isolation she imagines abusive parents put their kids through (her mind drifts painfully to Sumire) or the sort of neglect of parents too lost in each other to notice their child suffering commit. It's more like diving to the bottom of the ocean and seeing all of the fish swim above you. You can reach them, can interact, but you're not a part of their world. After all, you don't belong in the ocean. And how, exactly, are you supposed to talk to a fish? There can be one, or ten, or a thousand, and that won't make you feel any less alone, in the end. Sometimes she feels the pressure of the whole ocean on top of her and she wishes she could just swim away. She wonders if anybody would even notice, for a moment, and then she feels horrible for even insinuating such a thing.

Still, when she passes her father in the hall, _she_ feels like the intruder. She doesn't feel like this stranger has disrupted her life, but rather like she is a ghost, trapped within the walls of her own home and forced to intrude upon the other two residents simply by existing. Even worse is the moments like now, when they have friends over-- or as the case often is, when their friends decide to surprise them and there's nowhere for Sarada to retreat to. Currently, she sits at the table, dipping her head forward in the attempt to block out the rest of the world while Ino-ba-san chatters loudly with her father (who is rather talkative today with his 'Hm's and 'Aa's).

Eventually, she feels a hand on her shoulder, which she really expected at some point. She doesn't expect to see Sai's face when she looks up from her cup of now-cold black tea, smiling with more understanding than she is used to from him. "Why don't you and Inojin step outside for some air?"

She knows it isn't really a suggestion. She also knows that this time, it is for her own good, and so she simply nods and waits for Inojin to reach her side so he can half-follow, half-lead her outside. She's in front, but she can feel him pushing her even while his hands remain at his sides and she shoots withering looks over her shoulder that have no heart in them.

"So," Inojin says, sitting on the grass in the yard and staring up at the sky. There are no clouds out like she knows he likes to watch in the afternoons with Shikadai, but the night sky is clear enough that she can pick out clear constellations and so she takes a seat next to him, trying to tamp down the sense of unease when she catches the half-moon out of the corner of her eye. He bumps her shoulder with his. "You're quiet."

She snorts. "You're just used to loud idiots." She tries to ignore the feelings that thoughts of Boruto rise in her, instead leaning back and staring at the stars directly above their house. Lifting a finger, she points to the brightest star until he finally looks. "That's Tenbin... Shikadai's birthday's coming up, huh?"

"Yeah," Inojin allows after a quiet moment of thought. He glances over at her and bumps her shoulder again. "Let's talk about you, though. You're _quiet_." There's something in the word that makes guilt surge in her gut, and so she leans her head over onto his shoulder and tells him everything. Tells him how alone she feels. Tells him about the ocean. The fish. He seems to make sense of it, even when she feels like even she isn't able to, sometimes. Her own metaphor is so twisted that it doesn't make sense to even her, at her very core. She confesses that to him, too. After a while, he blinks and looks from the sky to her face. "That's... a lot."

"I know," she whispers, voice seeking some sort of validation.

For a third and final time, he bumps his shoulder into hers, and she thinks that's enough for now. She sits under the stars with him and stares up at them silently, knowing that he's pinpointing all of the same constellations as her. Their parents don't come to get them for hours, but they clearly noticed they were gone long before they came looking for them, Sakura picking up a half-asleep Sarada from Inojin's shoulder and Sai smiling at his son and telling him it's time to go home. Team Moegi has a mission tomorrow, after all, while Team Konohamaru is still stuck suffering through D-ranks for months yet after Boruto's stunt at the Chūnin Exams. Still, as their parents pass each other, Sarada now deposited into her father's lone arm, his stump supporting her back, she cracks an eye open to look at Inojin. _Thank you_ , she mouths. He smiles.

✿ ✿ ✿

He finds her in the woods, crying, after a frantic Boruto tells him and Shikadai that she's gone missing. He's not surprised, considering what she's been through recently. His footsteps are as quiet as any shinobi's, but he's sure she hears him as he walks up to her, gently resting a hand on her back when he reaches her.

"...Yamaneko is bright tonight," he says rather than trying and failing to be comforting. She peeks up from where she has been crying into her arms, knees still pulled up to her chest, and sniffles. Her eyes are wet as they scan the sky.

She sobs once, broken, and flings her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. "H-he didn't even... what did he do?"

He's only taken aback for a moment before he wraps his arms firmly around her midriff, effectively locking her in place against his chest, not that she was showing any signs of moving any time soon anyway. When she seems to have calmed down enough to listen, he pulls back to look her in the face, ignoring the tear tracks and the fog on her glasses. "This isn't anyone's fault, Sarada."

"It's my fault! I didn't want... and now he's..." She dissolves quickly into another sobbing fit and he pulls her back into a hug, running his fingers through her hair. Her breaths are hot and panicked against his pale skin, and he tries to focus simply on getting her breathing leveled out for now.

"It's not anyone's fault," he repeats, and he tries for stern but it comes out too soft. He's trying for his mother's firm reminders and instead gets her gentle, tender empathy; and that's what it is, empathy, because he's never been through anything like this and he would never wish to for a moment. "Think of this like a medic-nin, okay?" This, at least, gets her to glare sharply up at him until he remembers she's not the medic-nin on her team-- Mitsuki is. While her mother is the best medic-nin in the world (there's a reason his own works in T&I now instead of healing people on the battlefield), Sarada is on the path to Hokage and in her own words, she isn't going to get there by standing in the back waiting for others to come back with broken bones she needs to fix.

He sighs and leans back until he's laying flat against the ground, dragging her down with him. The trees fill his periphery, but they're in a clear spot and he wonders if she was looking at the stars before her breakdown. It's something they've done together a number of times, something he greatly prefers to watching the clouds with Shikadai, even if he would never tell him that. "These things happen. That doesn't make it _okay_ , but it means that this doesn't need to be world-shattering for you. It means that you can take this experience and mold it to be what you want, because you're Uchiha fucking Sarada." She huffs a wet laugh and he takes it as a small victory. "You really worried Boruto, you know," he says conversationally.

"Boruto is an idiot," she says, but she sounds somewhat regretful.

He shrugs. "So he is. But he's an idiot who cares about you. So maybe you can go hug him like this for a little while and call him an idiot to his face?"

She stiffens, and he glances down at her, concerned. In a small voice, she says, "Can we just stay here for a bit...?"

"Shikadai and I are supposed to meet Chōchō and our parents in half an hour for training. She'll kill us if we ditch her alone with them," he says on instinct, but he already feels guilty about it.

She sniffles, the exhale shaking. "You guys are already chūnin. How much more training do you need?" He laughs in agreement, running a hand through his hair.

He knows that he should say no. He knows that he shouldn't drop everything just to lay on the forest floor with Sarada and look at the stars because she's crying. He _is_ a chūnin, which means he's supposed to know how to be responsible. But he looks her in the eyes and all he sees is the absence of their usual light. All he sees is sadness, a brokenness there that he's sure he can put back together, because over the years, he's always been the one to do it. So he sighs and bumps his shoulder against hers and then scoots half an inch closer. "...Okay. You get a pass today, Uchiha. But don't expect special treatment from me like this all the time," he teases.

❀ ❀ ❀

She still can't quite believe she's getting married in a week; she can't believe she's been arranging her wedding for two months, and least believable of all is just how helpful Boruto has actually been. For example, the only reason she stands in Yamanaka Flower Shop to pick flowers for her arrangement now is because he is out picking up his montsukihakama and the kurotomesode their mothers will be wearing, made by the same seamstress. Her own uchikake, as well as the hōmongi Chōchō will be wearing and Himawari-chan's irotomesode, was just finished by the same elderly woman who has sewn every Hokage's cloak thus far, and, reportedly, her own grandmother's kimono, and her next trip is to pick it up.

Inojin sees her where she stands by the door and immediately brightens. "With how busy you've been, I wasn't sure we were ever gonna see you in here."

"You kidding? I wasn't going to get the flowers for my _wedding_ from anywhere else. Yamanaka Flower Shop is the best in the village," she says, grinning teasingly at him even if she means the sentiment behind the compliment. He simply rolls his eyes and rests a hand on her back to lead her toward the flowers. They stop in front of a section of various flowers, petals all various shades of vibrant red. She supposes he thinks he's being subtle, and tugs at the red fabric of her qipao almost unconsciously.

"For the two of you Mom was insisting wasurenagusa, but I'm thinking red camellias and daffodils," he says, gesturing to the former. The camellias are in full bloom, showing off thick scarlet petals. The daffodils, which he takes her to next, are such a pale yellow that they almost look white.

She shoots him a skeptical look. "The camellias I get, but why daffodils?" He reaches forward and plucks one from its pot, offering it to her, and she takes it with narrowed eyes. This one is more yellow than the others, more similar in color to her soon-to-be husband's hair than to Inojin's like all the rest are.

"Daffodils mean respect. I can't think of any couple that embodies that more than you two." She feels her face heat up and crosses her arms, pressing the stem of the flower close to her chest. "Plus, Sakura-ba-san told me a story about her own experience with daffodils. That seemed fitting for you two, too." She doesn't pry for more information because she knows the story he's talking about; her mother had told her when she was eleven, demanding information about her relationship with her father.

She looks at the flower by her chest, its petals already losing shape after being plucked, and thinks of Boruto bringing her her very own daffodil on her eighteenth birthday. _Roses are overdone_ , he had said, offering her the garish yellow thing, and the same story her mother had told her flashed to the front of her mind. She'd brought daffodils for Lee and her father at the hospital every day, dipping into her savings for days while she couldn't take missions. Ino-ba-san, who had had a crush on her father back then (which is always so strange for her to think about), brought him a rose on the first day, but ended up giving up quickly in the face of her own Mama's kindness, despite their continued rivalry. That was shortly before her father left the village, and she wondered at the time if he even remembered the daffodils. The whole thing had seemed decidedly ungrateful to her at the time.

Boruto had purchased the one he bought her from this same store, half a month before they were supposed to bloom, but by some miracle his fully blossomed before he gifted it to her. She smiles thinking of her fiancé cultivating the flower by himself before giving it to her, desperately willing it to flower. She'd spent hours in the days following that trying to picture his face when it finally did.

She drags herself out of her thoughts and smiles at Inojin, offering the daffodil back. "That arrangement sounds great. I'm sure Boruto will love it, too." He nods and immediately returns to the counter to write down her order, which turns out to be hundreds of flowers. He insists that she doesn't pay and she points out that this is poor business practice but doesn't argue, largely because the thought of paying that much for flower arrangement makes her head spin.

"It's so crazy to think that you're getting married," he says, leaning forward against the counter. "And to  _Boruto_."

She rolls her eyes, sighing. "Don't act like you can't believe it. Shikadai already told me you two have been making bets since we were genin." He just shrugs and nods his confirmation, gesturing toward the door as he goes to untie his apron. She raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask, and that's how she goes from nervously stepping into the Yamanaka Flower Shop to order the flowers for her wedding to being dragged around by Inojin through every errand, her uchikake draped over one of his arms and three bags of knickknacks she doubts are necessary on the other by the time she gets home.

✿ ✿ ✿

He wears a Western-style suit, tugging uncomfortably at his bow tie. It's not like anything he's ever worn before, coming from an old if not necessarily traditional clan, but Himawari adores the style and his mother keeps commenting on how slimming it looks (he can't even begin to understand this compliment) so he puts up with it even as he's sure Shikadai has tied it too tightly. Behind him, aforementioned friend is observing his own work, nodding in approval.

"So I guess this makes us siblings." He hears, and looks over his shoulder to see Sarada, balancing a toddler on her hip. Her stomach is round with she and Boruto's second child, and it's still hard for Inojin to believe that they have children.

He thinks to afternoons spent laughing at Chōchō's antics and failed romances together. The first time Chōchō had been dumped and the two of them talking about it afterward like it was a personal problem for them, and talking years later about how selfish that was of them.

He thinks to days when he'd find her in the library, face buried in a book about her latest obsession that he never understood (and it was never boys like other kids their age; he remembers the time she picked up a book that was probably bigger than she was and explained that she was reading about medical techniques so she could keep up with Mitsuki, who's always been the medic-nin on their team), and he'd simply take a seat next to her and quietly glance over her shoulder.

He thinks to nights when she would drag him outside with her for some air while their parents fought in the house, and they'd spend hours pointing out constellations and forgetting about whatever stupid argument their mothers had started this time. Nights when she'd lock herself in her room just crying instead of coming downstairs and he'd eventually convince her to let him in both the room and her head. Nights when she would laugh and tell their parents embarrassing stories from the Academy over dinner.

"Don't be ridiculous. We already were."

They grin and he goes for a high five, but she catches his wrist and drags him into a hug with the arm not occupied by Satomi. "As your best friend," she starts, and he sees the offended look Shikadai shoots at her back but doesn't refute the statement. "I'm so happy for you. As Himawari-chan's honorary big sister... If you hurt her, I will  _end_ you," she pulls back at this and he sees the same fire in her eyes that she gets on missions when she sees him or Boruto injured at the hands of an enemy. A threat that sings through every fiber of her being. He just nods.

"It's my job to give the shovel talk, you know," Boruto mutters as he steps between them, but his expression is all teasing as he reaches to pluck his daughter from Sarada's arms. "And I did that years ago." Still, he shoots an almost suspicious look at Inojin for a moment, and they have an entire conversation in silence before they both look away.

"You're going to be a great husband," Sarada says, smiling at him. The spark in her eyes has faded to a duller light, like the sun has set and her gaze has been bathed in starlight. If he looks closely, he imagines he could find Yamaneko there, twinkling in this interaction like it has in so many throughout their lives. "Now go and get married, you idiot." He sets his jaw and nods, turning to meet his soon-to-be wife.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Sarada! There's actually a lot of depressed Uchiha Sarada in this fic, though. That wasn't the original intent, but I'm depressed, tired, and unmotivated, so my characters are depressed, tired, and unmotivated.
> 
> Also, I am aware that I used the Japanese names for some flowers and not for others. Whether I use the proper Japanese name or not generally depends on how silly the American word sounds to me (forget-me-not just seems like a dumb name for a flower to me, especially when the meaning for that flower is not remembrance). Wasurenagusa are forget-me-nots. The constellations mentioned, Tenbin and Yamaneko, are the Japanese names for Libra and Lynx, respectively.


End file.
